


Till Stars Evaporate and Galaxies Ignite

by voxofthevoid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Barebacking, Disturbing Themes, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Madness, Masochism, Painful Sex, Sadism, Temporary Character Death, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, interplay of sex and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 19:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17772998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: Yuuri comes to Viktor in a flash of blue fire, and the world is shaped anew.It’s easy to fall – whether it’s love, lust, obsession, he doesn’t know, but it feels a lot like dying.





	Till Stars Evaporate and Galaxies Ignite

**Author's Note:**

> So uh here's a thing from my stash of bullshit
> 
> Note the tags. This thing's kinda fucked up.

He enters Viktor’s world in a flash of blue fire.

It’s quite the spectacle, like in those stories in Viktor’s homeworld, something heralding the arrival of gods. The green sky splits apart, a glimpse of something dark and gaping showing through before the fire takes over, violent and raging with something small and limp floating in the middle.

When it’s all over and done, there’s a smoking crater in the middle of the meadow.

Viktor is very unimpressed.

He has spent many years – centuries? millennia? – here, and after a while, the static, timeless nature of the world became as great as comfort as torment. He doesn’t appreciate the break in his routine.

More to the point, this is _Viktor’s_ world. He doesn’t want company.

Peering down at the dark-haired creature lying face-down in the creator, Viktor realizes grimly that he doesn’t have a choice. He spends another moment staring down at the intruder, waiting for him to breathe or move or do anything other than lie there like a corpse, but they don’t so much as stir. He considers calling down a greeting, see if that will prompt a reaction, but speaking isn’t too appealing. Viktor’s been chattering to himself with cheerful madness for eons now, but the thought of raising his voice for another is unsettlingly daunting.

He jumps into the crater instead, landing on his feet, knees bent to absorb the impact. He doesn’t bother being cautious as he approaches the intruder. What’s the worst they can do? Kill him?

Hah.

The creature isn’t smoking despite the fire and the fall. They’re humanoid, from the sight of their back, skin fair though a far cry from Viktor’s snowy translucence. Maybe they’re even human. Viktor’s not sure what to feel about that.

He pokes the intruder with one bare toe. There’s no response. The pokes get harder, more impertinent, almost playful, and while there’s not so much as a twitch in answer, Viktor’s mood improves considerably. It gets boring after a while though, and once it’s clear that they won’t wake up even if Viktor stomps on their ass, he gives up and just turns them over, finding them surprisingly light.

His eyes zero in on the very human-like dick lying limp between their legs. Probably a man then. Or maybe they just liked dicks and had one built into them. Viktor once knew someone who did that. Her name was…Mara? Maia?

No, Mila. Red hair, blue eyes, a smile like a knife, and a death count in the hundreds. Wonderful woman. She’s probably dead now. Everyone he knew is probably dead now.

Viktor blinks and turns back to the dick. It’s a nice dick. Good length. _Very_ good girth. Lickable. Mmm.

Being alone for an eternity or ten seems to have done odd things to his sex drive.

Viktor drags his gaze to the man’s face, which is almost as handsome as his dick. Soft features, lush lips, long lashes, and artfully messy hair. He doesn’t look like a monster, but then, neither does Viktor. It’s advantageous in his line of work.

Was. Was advantageous. Now he just…exists.

He sits down beside the man. The crater isn’t hot either now that he’s paying attention. It’s just cool dirt and bits of scorched grass, comfortable enough to sit on. He stretches out his legs and his feet come to rest on the man’s belly. It’s soft too. There’s no muscle on the guy, just flaps of flesh stretched tightly over bones. It’s dangerously close to emaciation.

Whatever he is, whatever he did to earn his place here, it’s nothing like what Viktor or Mila or the fiery blond one used to do. Their bodies were their weapons, their minds mere fuel. But that doesn’t rule out much. Viktor’s met a wide variety of terrifying people in his time.

He’s curious in spite of himself which kind his intruder will turn out to be.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost dusk when the man wakes.

There’s no warning, no groaning or twitching. One moment, he’s a warm corpse under Viktor’s feet, and the next, his whole body is as tense as rock. Viktor, dozing with his back to one side of the crater, takes a while to notice it. When he does, he finds the intruder’s eyes fixed on him, blank and uninterested. He’s rigid but still, seemingly unconcerned that Viktor’s using him as a footrest.

Viktor draws his legs away because he’s nice like that and tucks them under himself.

“Hello!” he chirps cheerily, the earlier hesitance to speak fleeing in the wake of his companion’s newfound consciousness.

The man doesn’t seem to share Viktor’s enthusiasm. He doesn’t even react, just stares at Viktor with that same blankness, his eyes so dull that Viktor has to wonder if he’s actually seeing him or just lost in his own mind. The creepiest thing is how he doesn’t even blink. Viktor tries to play the game, and lasts ten minutes before he eyes flare with pain and forces him to shut them.

“Rude,” Viktor mutters, pouting. The expression sits oddly on his lips, but he feels…giddy.

It’s starting to sink in that he’s not alone anymore. Sure, his companion could be everything he’s never wanted, but if that happens, Viktor can just kill him.

The man doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink all night. Viktor eventually falls asleep in that crater under the watch of dead brown eyes.

 

* * *

 

He wakes as he always does, sprawled on his back on the beach, cool waves lapping at his feet. The sky is green, the ocean blue, and two twin suns glow timidly in the west. It’s very pretty and very boring.

Viktor is halfway through his morning ritual – wish some clothes into being, brush his teeth with briny water, stretch, strip off the clothes he wished into being, go swimming – when he remembers what happened yesterday. He flops messily out of the water and doesn’t bother drying himself before pulling on some pants and heading to the meadow.

There’s no crater, and Viktor has about five seconds to wonder if he imagined the whole thing – but he was sure he was past the nightmare/dream/hallucination pace a year or hundred ago, but maybe it’s come back, and really, leave it to his asshole brain to taunt him with such a nice dick – and then he spots the man, sitting with his back to the lone tree at the other edge of the meadow. He’s hard to spot even with Viktor’s excellent vision, but he also has the advantage of having spent long enough in this unchanging landscape to memorize every inch of it. Anomalies stand out.

He doesn’t run to the man. There’s no hurry. Neither of them is going anywhere.

The man’s looking at Viktor, but this time, his eyes aren’t hollow like yesterday. But whatever animation he’s gained, it’s not enough to make him stand or smile or do much of anything at Viktor’s approach.

He’s also still very naked.

Viktor doesn’t bother being discreet when he scopes out that dick. Still limp, still nice.

“I remember you,” the man says all of a sudden, and Viktor jumps in place.

It’s been a while since he heard another’s voice. He freezes, not too long, but long enough that it could have gotten him killed once upon a time.

“We met yesterday,” Viktor says blankly, crouching beside the newcomer. “I’m Viktor. What’s your name?”

The man blinks, slow and hazy, and Viktor thinks that no reply shall be forthcoming, that whatever they did to him before dumping him here damaged his mind, but then there’s a sound like a sigh and an answer that’s little more than breath.

“Yuuri. I am Yuuri.”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri’s not really the talkative sort.

Or the physical sort.

He’s not much of anything, really. Granted, that’s because he has yet to move from his reclining position under his tree and respond to anything Viktor says. It’s like that brief exchange on the second day wore him out, so he just sits there, staring straight ahead of him with unblinking eyes.

Seriously, he doesn’t blink, not even at night. Viktor peers into his face in the dim light of the twin moons and finds them wide open. He doesn’t seem to sleep, and Viktor stays up with him, except that doesn’t matter because in the morning, he wakes up on the beach and strides back to the meadow to find Yuuri under his tree, as still as a statue.

In any other world, he would make dreadfully boring company.

Viktor is quite content to watch him all day and all night. It’s a new routine, but he likes it.

And Yuuri’s bare flesh is easy enough on the eyes.

 

* * *

 

When Yuuri finally acts, it’s one month and four days later.

Viktor hasn’t kept track of the days in a very long time. It’s a little novel. He would have counted hours, but there are no devices here, and he’s never bothered learning how to tell time using the sun’s position. He knows dawn, noon, dusk, and night. It’s good enough.

It’s not quite noon when Yuuri makes a faint noise and rises to his feet. He doesn’t stagger or wobble, but it’s not a graceful moment either, more mechanical than anything. He stands there for an hour so while Viktor remains seated. The view at eye-level is quite nice.

Eventually, Yuuri turns around, and the view remains equally nice.

Viktor, out of some momentary sense of courtesy, told Yuuri a week in that he could wish some clothes into existence. He was more than a little pleased when the words fell on unhearing ears.

Now, Yuuri blinks down at him with an expression that’s not curious as much as it is puzzled.

“Viktor,” he says at length.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri winces, then frowns, and Viktor takes pity on him and stands up as well. Yuuri’s not as tall as him, but even as close as they are, it’s easy to keep eye-contact. There’s a bit of red in Yuuri’s eyes, not specks of it, but a solid ring around the pupil. It’s eerily pretty.

“You’re human.”

“I am,” Viktor answers, accepting that as good a feature as any to latch on to. “Aren’t you?”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“Oh. Huh. You look human.”

Yuuri looks down at his body, running his hands down his sides, not surprised but considering in some odd way.

“This body is,” he answers. Because that’s not alarming at all.

“Ah. Mind-hopping parasite?”

And Yuuri _smiles_. It’s not a very pleasant smile.

“Not even close.”

Viktor pouts, the beams when he realizes how casual Yuuri sounded just now. None of that bland, mechanical voice, but something vaguely playful. He’s still miffed that his wild guess struck wrong, though that reminds him…

“I guess you aren’t male then! Do you have categories like that, whatever you are?”

Yuuri looks down at his body again, though his arms remain at his sides.

“I like this body,” he answers. “I made it myself. You can think of me as male. It’s pleasing.”

“Wow,” Viktor breathes, grinning so wide it hurts. This is the most entertainment he’s had since he stopped trying to kill himself in creative ways. “I like you, Yuuri!”

Yuuri blinks at him.

 

* * *

 

“Where are we?” Yuuri asks the next morning when Viktor joins him at his tree.

He expected this question yesterday, not consciously, but he must have in some part of his mind because hearing it now brings a note of surprise. But Yuuri was quiet yesterday, following Viktor docilely as he led him through his world – except it was no longer _his_ world, but theirs. That would take some getting used to, but that first flare of displeasure seems to have vanished.

It’s odd. Viktor firmly believed he rid himself of that terrible, gnawing need for companionship after years upon years in this forsworn world, but faced with another creature in the flesh, that need is just…there.

Yuuri’s odd company though, as he keeps demonstrating. For hours, Viktor led him through this world, over to his beach first, then back to the meadow, then to the desert, then the snowy cliffs, and finally, at the peak where they gazed down what seemed to be an endless, gaping chasm, with the strangest waterfall on the other side, the sound of it a loud, steady roar that says nothing of how deep it goes. He thinks it’s his ocean – _his_ because that’s where he wakes, each time without fail, and the need to lay claim to something is terribly instinctive – that plummets down the chasm, this senseless world completing itself in some jagged way, not a perfect circle but with that bit of nothingness in between.

Viktor flung himself down there once. He never once hit bottom, just fell and fell and fell. And in the morning, he woke up in his beach, waves lapping at his feet. He tried swimming, too, just to see if he can ever go far enough to tumble down the other end. He always drowned with salt in his throat and that vast, merciless expanse of blue before his eyes.

He’s not going to tell these stories to Yuuri, not yet, maybe not ever, but he was happy enough to give him a tour.

Yuuri didn’t have trouble keeping up with Viktor, his pace steady and steps unfaltering despite his scrawny build. It was as impressive as it was unnatural. When Viktor changed attire to accommodate the heat and the cold, Yuuri, though naked, never once sweated or shivered. His bare feet bled on sharp rocks and scarlet blood streaked the snow for a few steps until it suddenly stopped. When Viktor knelt, and Yuuri allowed him to inspect his feet, he found it smooth and unmarred.

It’s obvious that Yuuri, for all that he looks the part, is very much not a human. Physically and psychologically, he’s different.

So no, he asked no questions all day yesterday, not even when the break of dawn found them still standing above that strange chasm. The next moment, they woke up as they always do, Viktor with his waves and Yuuri at his tree. And _now_ , Yuuri has questions. Viktor doesn’t understand him. It’s thrilling.

“The Void,” Viktor says imperiously, giving a little flourish with his hand. “Impressive piece of fuckery, isn’t it?”

Yuuri just looks at him, uncomprehending. Viktor pouts.

“You’re no fun, Yuuri. It’s a prison world. Well, many worlds. Many, many, many. Pocket dimensions only accessible through some complicated bit of physics and magic that’s really not my field.”

“Prison,” Yuuri echoes, eyes flitting about the meadow rich with lush grass and colorful flowers.

It’s beautiful. All of this place is beautiful. Viktor doesn’t know what the other worlds look like, whether they each have theory own personalities or if they’re all identical. He used to wonder before he stopped bothering.

“I know,” he answers Yuuri’s unspoken question. “Doesn’t look like much of a prison. Personally, I’d have preferred a nice, dark cell and the death penalty. Sounds so cozy.”

“You wish to die?” Yuuri asks, and he sounds so adorably confused.

Viktor’s starting to think that Yuuri’s not intentionally stoic so much as genuinely blank for the most part. His emotions are obvious, and he doesn’t even try hiding them, but on the flip side, he doesn’t seem to feel anything with frequency or intensity.

“Do you know how old I am?” Viktor asks instead of giving him a straight answer.

“How would I?”

Viktor smile at him, bright enough to blind.

“Neither do I!”

 

* * *

 

Yuuri doesn’t protest when Viktor insists on leading him south. The other day, they followed the sun, crossing through patches of wildly incompatible landscapes, all of it incomplete in a way that screamed of illusions or holograms or anything but hard, cold reality. But this world follows no laws but its own, and well, perhaps the incompleteness is a fundamental part of it. After all, it’s not one cohesive world but many splintered pieces.

The walk south – or north, it’s hard to tell after a point – is less jarring. Instead of several acres of a particular topography followed by another, it’s just miles and miles of the same, stretching on endlessly. Viktor tried many times to find where it lead to. It never took him anywhere. He didn’t go in circles either. Then again, there’s a limit to how much he can walk in a day, and in the morning, everything resets. He’s quite sure there’s nothing to see, nothing to find, just endless snow or sand or flowers.

But Yuuri doesn’t know that, and some things need to be seen to be believed, so Viktor gives him a tour.

Look at him, being the responsible one.

It’s almost like being back with–

Ah.

His name was the same. The blond with hellfire in his eyes.

Yuuri.

No. Yuri.

Yuuri’s doing wonders for Viktor’s memory. It makes him want to strangle him a little.

 

* * *

 

When someone does get strangled, it’s Viktor, and he asks for it.

Literally. He literally asks for it.

“You can’t die,” Yuuri states the next day.

It’s noon, and Viktor spend the morning at his beach, swimming until his arms ached and grew heavy. He almost drowned four times, and the fourth time, he considered letting it happen. But then he would just wake up the next morning, the day having passed without him, except that to him, it would feel like the blink of an eye.

So he swam back to the shore and walked to the meadow and nearly had a stroke when he found Yuuri not at his tree but crouched several yards away amidst a bunch of lovely blue flowers that swayed to a non-existent breeze. He waits till Viktor’s within earshot before sharing his observation.

“Give the man a cookie,” Viktor says, huffing before dropping down next to Yuuri, flowers crushed under him. Yuuri seems to not notice. “It’s not just me. You can’t die either. This is our life now, forever and always.”

Yuuri frowns at him.

“How long have you been here?”

“I honestly don’t have the slightest clue.”

“Have you ever tried to escape?”

Considering the circumstances, Viktor thinks he can be forgiven for just doubling over and laughing until he’s crying from it.

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, a breath of madness in that word. “Oh, you don’t know what I’ve tried, Yuuri. But this is kingdom come. They can open the gateway and shove people through, but that’s it. There’s no escape. No rescue. Nothing that enters here ever leaves. I had the luxury of reading up on it between my sentence and its execution. You wouldn’t believe how confused I was. Felt like they were giving me luxury immortality.”

Viktor hardly remembers that feeling. Oh, he knows what he thought, how he laughed, the words he said. Some of it is hazy, but enough of it remains. But the feeling – of giddiness and hope and something like triumph? All of it is beyond his reach.

“Well, I changed my mind,” he finishes flatly.

Yuuri only listens, still frowning. Viktor watches him, hoping against hope for some sort of reaction. Shock or panic would be nice, but at this point, he’ll be gratified even by a shaky nod.

Yuuri, the bastard, gives him nothing.

Viktor doesn’t think, just acts. Yuuri starts a little when Viktor suddenly bolts forward but lets him invade his personal space without struggle. It’s almost like he trusts Viktor, but it’s just as likely that Viktor can shove a knife through his skull and Yuuri wouldn’t care.

“Are you skeptical?” Viktor asks, lips brushing Yuuri’s ear. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“The universe is a vast place,” Yuuri answers. “There’s not a lot that can surprise me.”

It’s said in a voice that’s almost matter of fact, but there’s something, a telltale tilt at the end, a hitch of wonder, that makes Viktor grin like a smug cat.

“But this does.”

“This does,” Yuuri agrees, fingers twitching a little in Viktor’s grip.

“Would you like proof?”

“You’ve already shown me the limits of this plane. I could explore myself, ascertain it. What more is there?”

It’s a struggle to pull back. Viktor is very aware of the warmth of Yuuri’s hand in his grip and the way his lips are almost brushing skin. The purple flowers have a sweet scent, but he has the wild feeling that if he sidles closer and buries his face in Yuuri’s neck, he can drink him in like fine wine.

Viktor shudders, sighs, and tears himself away.

Yuuri’s eyes are hooded and intent, and the look, innocent though it may be, does _things_ to Viktor.

He doesn’t release Yuuri’s hand but lifts them instead, and Yuuri allows it, only watching with narrowed eyes as Viktor arranges them around his own throat.

“Go on,” he purrs. “Kill me.”

He expects – well, he didn’t exactly offer it after thinking it through, but he does grin a little, expecting a reaction, something more than what Yuuri has expressed so far; questions, maybe, incredulous jabs at his sanity like the green-eyed one used to make, or even just a pair of widened eyes.

Instead, he gets fingers tightening around his throat.

It’s not meant to choke, and the reaction seems more experimental than anything, but not like Yuuri’s testing if Viktor meant what he said. He seems to take that for granted, but his intent stare and the way he shifts his hands tell Viktor that he’s adjusting the grip to the best it can be.

Viktor pries his fingers off Yuuri’s wrists and lets them fall to his sides. Almost at the same time, Yuuri finds a comfortable grip.

And squeezes.

He’s not gentle about it, doesn’t pause to gauge Viktor’s reaction, doesn’t let go at the first gasp. He’s not quick either, crushing Viktor’s throat quickly and efficiently, out of cruelty or mercy. He could do it, those thin fingers are shockingly strong, but he doesn’t.

He’s slow, methodical, never letting up the pressure but building it slow and sweet, until Viktor’s lungs are burning and his fingers are clawing at Yuuri’s arms. They don’t let go, but they do yank him closer, close enough for Yuuri to kiss him while he kills him. He doesn’t do that either, but his eyes are fever-bright and wide with fascination, and that’s almost as good.

The intimacy of it creeps like fire through his skin, Yuuri’s skin a burning brand where it meets Viktor’s. There’s a heat in his gut, wholly inappropriate and climbing higher even as he thrashes in his death throes.

Viktor keeps his eyes on Yuuri’s face as long as he can, mind detached from the furious resistance his body can’t help but employ. He can only drink in the sweet curve of Yuuri’s lips and the glint of madness in his eyes until his vision grays and goes dark.

Dying by Yuuri’s hand is sweeter than dying at his own.

 

* * *

 

Viktor wakes with the ocean at his feet and someone’s flesh under his head.

He’s shuddering even before he opens his eyes, body strumming with the memory of that slow, glorious death. He can still feel Yuuri’s hand on his throat, choking the life out of him, and though he knows he will find his neck unmarked and uninjured, the phantom sensation is stunningly realistic. Viktor gasps in breath, mind and body confused when the air is sucked in unimpeded.

There are fingers in his hair, stroking lightly, unconcerned with Viktor’s gasping and writhing.

“You’re back,” Yuuri says, his voice coming from above Viktor, and he manages to pry his eyes open. Dark eyes peer down at him, and even upside down, there’s an eerie beauty to Yuuri.

“Yes,” Viktor says, breathless and laughing. “You killed me, I died, and now I’m not.”

“Like you said,” Yuuri adds sagely, acting like Viktor’s demonstration wasn’t necessary at all to convince him, which might as well be true because it’s not like Viktor volunteered to have an in-depth conversation before asking Yuuri to kill him.

And Yuuri acquiesced all too easily and now looks as serene as ever, the beautiful bastard.

“I wondered,” Viktor says quietly, not bothering to rise from where he’s apparently sprawled in Yuuri’s lap, “whether you were really so bad as to be sent here. You seem harmless enough. I know better now.”

Yuuri smiles. Like most of his smiles, it’s not a very pleasant one. Viktor likes it.

“You’re very warm,” is what Yuuri says instead of answering the unspoken question. His hands are now on Viktor’s chest, wandering without thought for personal space. Viktor could will clothes into his skin, but he likes Yuuri’s touch. It’s firm, cold, possessive. “Your flesh took a long time to cool yesterday.

“Ah,” says Viktor because what else do you say to that. “What did you do all day?”

“Stayed with you. Held you. You’re very beautiful. I didn’t notice before.”

Viktor blinks, smile freezing on his face.

See, he’s a little fucked up and he knows it. Centuries of boring immortality in a place frozen in time and set to loop can do that to a guy. Before he came here though, he wasn’t insane. A killer, yes, cold and ruthless when needed, maybe a monster to some, but not insane. He took a while to work up to that.

Yuuri, deceptively soft-faced and oddly endearing, seems to have arrived that way.

He takes a moment to process that. Then he sits up, not moving away from Yuuri, but leaning his back against his front instead. Yuuri accommodates him easily, legs, arms coming around his waist and legs bracketing his body. Yuuri must wake a little earlier than Viktor for him to have had enough time to get here before he woke. The fact that he bothered when he never left the meadow of his own volition before is…well, it’s pretty sweet.

And he held Viktor all day yesterday. And found him beautiful.

“You’re very pretty yourself,” Viktor says in the end, twisting so he can brace an arm on Yuuri’s chest and run it up to his neck, fingers sliding over cool fabric with a–

Viktor freezes and then takes a proper look at what he’s fondling.

For the first time since he arrived, Yuuri’s clothed. Viktor’s reluctant to leave Yuuri’s embrace, the touch welcome and needed after too long spent without it, but he does force himself to lean back enough to take it Yuuri’s clothes. They’re simple and skintight, a blend of shirt and tunic, with painted-on pants underneath. It covers every inch of skin from Yuuri’s neck to feet which remain bare.

It’s all dark, as black as his hair, with an odd sheen that seems to eat the light around it – like a black hole, is the comparison that jumps to Viktor’s mind, and somehow, Yuuri manages to be less and less harmless with each passing second.

It’s impressive, honestly.

“You have clothes,” Viktor says blandly and goes willingly when Yuuri very gently draws him back to his chest.

“Mm. This is an interesting world.”

“Very. Tell me more about yesterday. Did you really just stay with me?”

“I just watched you first. You looked…very fragile, splayed on the flowers. I wanted to touch you. So I did.”

“I wonder if you realize what that sounds like,” Viktor muses, then perks up, an idea sparking. “Touch me now, like you did when I was dead.”

“I am,” Yuuri tells him, a frown audible in his voice, but he complies easily enough, hands slowly wandering up and down Viktor’s chest. There’s nothing strictly inappropriate about it. Yuuri never ventures below the waist and his touches, though proprietary, aren’t sexual. It doesn’t change the fact that Yuuri spent hours groping Viktor’s corpse.

He keeps waiting for Yuuri to do something more, but he just keeps running his hands over Viktor’s chest and stomach in random patterns, his skin cool and pleasant to feel. One hand creeps to his neck sometimes, and Viktor’s heart races in his chest each time fingers close lightly around his throat.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he gets hard.

And he’s still naked so of course Yuuri sees.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says preemptively, making a half-hearted attempt to pull away from Yuuri and ending up gratified when he keeps Viktor tucked against him almost unconsciously. “It’s just – the touch. It’s been a while.”

“It’s okay,” Yuuri tells him, nonchalant but with a thread of what might be intended as comfort. “Happened to me too, yesterday.”

A pause, Viktor digesting that with conflicting feelings.

“You were very warm,” Yuuri adds, and he – he kind of nuzzles Viktor, nosing at his hair and _breathing_.

Viktor just gets harder and doesn’t say the obvious. Glass houses and all that.

“Oh?” he asks instead, voice pitched low and not entirely manufactured. “And what did you do about it?”

“It was poking into places. So I got clothes.”

“You got – of course. Of course.”

Yuuri tenses when Viktor bursts into laughter, but when he twists in his arms and takes him down, Yuuri barely puts up a fight. He frowns up at Viktor, more bewildered than scared, but lies still under him, not trying to escape even when Viktor arranges himself into a proper straddling position.

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri, you’re _amazing_.”

Yuuri looks cute with his cheeks squished together, and Viktor takes a whole minute to appreciate the sight before he leans in to take Yuuri in a kiss. There’s no resistance, just lips that are cool and unmoving against his. Viktor frowns and pulls back, finding Yuuri wearing a blend of surprise and uncertainty.

He goes slower this time, giving Yuuri ample time to push him away, but the reaction is the same. Viktor moves his mouth sweetly against Yuuri’s, soft and insistent until they part on a sigh.

“There we go,” he murmurs. “Kiss me, won’t you?”

Yuuri does, or rather, he allows Viktor to kiss him, opening his mouth for his searching tongue and letting Viktor coax Yuuri’s out to play. He’s a little cold, like the blood in his veins is not really warm, and it’s a little reminder that despite appearances, Yuuri isn’t human. But Viktor likes the feel of his lips and the taste of his mouth so he drinks his fill until Yuuri’s chest is heaving under him and there’s something hard digging into his ass.

“There you are,” Viktor says laughing, and Yuuri makes a rumbling noise when he breaks the kiss.

Viktor straightens and almost bursts into laughter again when he sees that Yuuri’s flushed and dark-eyed, but he doesn’t get a chance to, suddenly yanked down by a strong hand gripping his nape. Yuuri’s clumsy in his eagerness, teeth digging into Viktor’s lip hard enough to draw blood. It sends a jolt straight to his cock, makes him writhe, seeking friction that maddeningly eludes him. Yuuri just grows hungrier, nails digging into Viktor’s skin and rumbling growls slithering up his throat as he kisses Viktor with tongue and teeth and violence. It’s a relief when he flips them and pins Viktor to the sand and _grinds_ into him.

It’s not comfortable, beach sex really is stupid, but even sand squirming into places one should never have sand doesn’t stop Viktor from kissing Yuuri with everything he has and bucking his hips up, rubbing his dripping cock against Yuuri’s ice-hot pants and the hard length trapped inside. Yuuri fumbles with his thigh, and Viktor laughs, then gasps and throws his leg around Yuuri, pulling him insistently down on Viktor.

It’s rough and dirty and over all too quickly, Yuuri tearing off the kiss with a cry, shuddering hard, and Viktor bucking his hips, once, twice, and shaking apart with the force of his own climax.

In the aftermath, his body’s thrumming and his mind’s unsatisfied.

Yuuri slumps atop him, suddenly dead weight, and Viktor wheezes but doesn’t shove him off. They’re making a mess. Whatever Yuuri’s clothes are made of doesn’t let his come seep through, but there’s enough on Viktor to stain them both. He tugs weakly at Yuuri’s clothes, making inarticulate noises until Yuuri clues in and wishes the clothes away. The sudden press of cool naked skin makes Viktor shiver and hold tightly onto Yuuri, something already stirring inside him.

Maybe it should be overwhelming, having all of this after years spent in his own company, but Viktor’s aching and needy and wants to press closer to Yuuri until they can’t ever be pried apart.

His cock echoes his interest, flushing with blood, and there’s an answering hardness from Yuuri. They shift, together but not, bodies rubbing together in delightful, electrifying ways. Viktor spreads his legs this time, and Yuuri settles between them like he was born for it, cock dripping against Viktor’s. He reaches down to touch it, shuddering in tandem with Yuuri. He can’t remember the last time he touched a cock not his own, and he _aches_ , mouth watering, ass clenching, and he doesn’t know how it shows on his face, but whatever Yuuri sees there pulls a high, keening noise out of him.

Viktor bucks up in answer, begging with his body because his tongue is slow and clumsy in his mouth, and it takes gasps and whines and a helpless, screaming eternity before he can whisper a desperate demand.

“ _Fuck me_.”

Yuuri, poised above Viktor with his flushed cheeks and dripping dick, just looks confused.

Maybe, if Viktor were a better man, he’s slow down and explain, and they’d learn each other’s bodies together in sweet unity. But Viktor’s nothing but a writhing pile of fiery need, and it’s enough for him that Yuuri’s hard and seems to, out of chance if little else, want Viktor.

He spits into his palm and grabs Yuuri’s cock, grinning wildly at the strangled sound Yuuri makes. Then he’s distracted because Yuuri’s thick and nice, the kind of cock that Viktor will feel for days even if they’re careful.

They’re not careful now, it’s just spit slicking the sweet girth of him, and it might break Viktor a little, but he just pecks Yuuri on the lips and guides his dick to his ass because what does it matter if he breaks when daybreak will find him as whole as ever?

Yuuri’s a fast learner. There’s a moment where he’s still and stunned, blankly watching as Viktor pushes his ass against the head of him, rim clenching in a blend of fear and need, and then he’s pushing, working himself into Viktor with short, graceless thrusts. It’s rough and it hurts, like he’s being torn open by molten metal, and Viktor arches into it, forcing himself to relax just enough to let Yuuri in and _howling_ at the pain, nails tearing bloody gouges down Yuuri’s back. Yuuri pants, teeth bared and eyes shut, but doesn’t stop, hips moving fast and frantic like he can pry Viktor open with sheer force.

And he does, _oh_ , he does, and Viktor’s hoarse with screaming by the time he’s bottomed out, and Yuuri looks like he’s dying.

Viktor curls a hand around the back of Yuuri’s neck, nails biting into skin, and snaps his hips, and that’s all it takes to get Yuuri moving with more short, hurried thrusts. It lasts no longer than the first, a few moments all it takes before Yuuri’s filling Viktor up with wet heat. It’s searing, branding him from the inside, and Viktor jolts as if struck by lightning, but it’s not enough and he doesn’t come, not even when the harsh sting of Yuuri pulling out makes him whimper and whine.

The gaping emptiness lasts all of a second before something smaller and lumpy is in him again, Yuuri’s fingers twisting viciously into him. He’s wet now, from Yuuri’s come, and they slide in easily though not painlessly, Viktor’s rim sore and twitching as knuckles come to rest against it. Yuuri keeps them moving, fanning and prodding, half an exploration and half demanding pleasure, and Viktor reacts almost helplessly, pushing into the touch and away from it in turns. He clutches fistfuls of sand that slide out from between his fingers. There’s sand everywhere, on his back, in his hair, as merciless as Yuuri’s fingers squirming inside of him.

Viktor opens the eyes he doesn’t even remember squeezing shut when there’s teeth at his shoulder, sinking into the flesh before nipping a path along the line of his throat. Yuuri sucks at his hammering pulse like he’s trying to drink Viktor’s life, but it’s the clamp of his teeth at the side, the flash of pain and thrilling pleasure, that tears his orgasm out of him. Viktor shakes and shudders and shouts as pleasure and pain rip through his body, and he slumps in the aftermath like a robot with its power out.

Yuuri rips his mouth away from Viktor’s neck and makes a wounded noise, fingers still inside of him.

Viktor says nothing, just numbly spreads his legs wider, as clear an invitation as he’s capable of being. And just as Viktor knew by some deep, animal instinct what Yuuri wanted, Yuuri hears the offer and accepts it with his cock sliding smoothly back into Viktor’s ass.

He’s sore, rim swollen and walls raw. Yuuri looks agonized, and Viktor’s in agony, but neither of them have the breath to scream as Yuuri sets a punishing pace, snapping his hips into Viktor and making him clench around his cock, beautiful and brutal.

Viktor doesn’t really think, just gropes around blindly until he catches Yuuri’s hand and sets it at his throat. There’s no hesitation in Yuuri, just fingers that tighten like a vice and wrenching Viktor’s breath away.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, his whole being reduced to the fever-hot pain in his ass and the desperate need for air, but he comes again, a final orgasm wrenched out of him by the black spots dancing in his vision.

 

* * *

 

He’s a little calmer when he wakes, trembling and breathing hard, but gentler, than the last time, rather like he’s coming down from a high rather than soaring into it.

He’s also alone.

The disappointment stings but doesn’t stop him from stumbling to his feet. He takes a quick dive just to wash the sand off his skin, grateful that the second death means he doesn’t have to scrub the beach out of his asscrack. This is routine, though, and calming, and he wills on a loose shirt even before he’s fully out of the water.

He doesn’t run to Yuuri’s meadow. He walks, calm and controlled, and maybe he pouts a little when Yuuri’s not there, heading towards him, but he figures he’s allowed that. He let Yuuri fuck him and kill him, and yeah, Viktor probably got more out of it than Yuuri did, but he’s still allowed to want some company in the aftermath of two, very short days that were more intense than anything he’s managed in the long eternity he’s spent here.

He finds Yuuri in the same patch of swaying blue flowers. There’s a bunch of it in his hands, held by the stems like a loose bouquet.

Yuuri stands once he catches sight of Viktor, and he doesn’t smile, but there’s something around the corners of his eyes that makes Viktor think he wants to. Yuuri walks towards him, flowers in hand and held carefully in front of him torso. Viktor’s surprised and yet not when Yuuri presents them to him, not with a dramatic flourish like Viktor would have, but with uncertainty etched into the lopsided tilt of his mouth.

Viktor grins, earlier irritation not forgotten but shoved aside for the moment, and takes the flowers.

“Wow! For me?”

Yuuri nods, ducks his head, his now empty hand clenching into a fist and loosening almost reluctantly.

“It’s…a thing, yes? Among humans. You’re human.”

“I am,” Viktor agrees softly, looking at the flowers. They’re still that luminous blue but no longer moving like they were caught in a wind no one else could feel. Beautiful but dead, which is appropriate, all things considered. “They have different meanings.”

“Apology,” Yuuri’s quick to provide. “But not…serious. Not for an argument or for anything harsh, but – like an end to a fight that’s not a fight. Something playful, except not really. It seemed appropriate, for what happened.”

Viktor blinks and holds the flowers a little closer.

“I asked for it,” he says, firm, and then adds, “That’s a very specific scenario by the way.”

“It’s what I remember. There was a woman. She bought flowers – picked them out and had them arranged and gave them to a man. Her lover. Husband, maybe. And he laughed and kissed her cheek and called her…something. Something that made her smile and feel lighter, like she was going to float away. I don’t understand that sensation.”

There’s a story there that Viktor’s helpless to resist, even when the frown on Yuuri’s face and the vague echo in his words give him pause. Something’s not right. Yuuri’s words are too intimate to be about someone he doesn’t know and know well, but the distant in his eyes doesn’t seem to suit that.

Viktor has to ask.

“How did you know her?”

Yuuri blinks, shaking something off without moving an inch, and his eyes are black holes when he looks at Viktor.

“I ate her.”

 

* * *

 

“What are you?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri simply smiles and pushes Viktor down, and he goes happily, tipping his head and spreading his legs in warm welcome.

Answers can wait. They have forever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be longer but then I ran out of inspiration and figured I'd end it with the mystery/horror vagueness intact.
> 
> Let me know what you think!!


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